Cat Got Your Tongue
by fanastikal
Summary: A black feline singles out Behmen shortly after Kay joins the group.  A retelling of most of the journey, but that lengthens it somewhat, as Behmen's nightmares get darker and more realistic.  Another segue that rejoins the movie later, and another M.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I thought I was okay with my one _Season of The Witch _story, but some dental work complications actually gave me a new idea that kept expanding until I had to revisit Behmen and company, as I do love this movie. Again, I've made it longer. And, the witch is a _lot _more sinister in this one: She's messing with Behmen in front of everyone this time, and pretty much everyone has to deal with the consequences. It takes until the second, last chapter before it gets completely away from the movie, but then gets back to it at the end. As last time, I let the movie kill off the friends, because I _really_ don't want to go there.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned _Season of The Witch_, it would've been longer, definitely rated R, and had more sex! But of course I don't; that's what this is for! God bless FanFiction!

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><p><em><strong>Cat Got Your Tongue<strong>_

"You do realize _you're_ being followed," Felson informed his friend suddenly, bringing his dark horse neck and neck with the long-maned white one.

"_Again_?" Behmen was pulled out of his thoughts immediately, turning toward the other man in shock. They'd just picked up the eager-to-please former altar boy, Kay, mere hours ago, and they were still only on the first day of their journey to Severac.

"Not again," the older man shook his head. "_We_ were being followed earlier, but _you're _being followed, now."

"How can you tell it's just me?" he demanded in consternation, not seeing anyone this time. He felt like his fellow knight was playing a trick on him, but their mission was deadly serious, so he knew that wasn't the case.

"Fall back, stop, and wait a minute," Felson instructed, the blond dropping back immediately, patting his mount as they paused, trying to keep at least one of them calm. But the horse reared back suddenly as a pure black cat appeared on top, immediately resting itself in front of Behmen's saddle.

"Whoa," he managed, half to calm his horse, half his reaction to the feline that was now purring contentedly. Collecting himself, he pulled an apple from his saddlebag, taking a bite before letting the large animal have the rest, and he gingerly pet the cat before continuing on. Felson had paused not too far ahead, and had seen everything, and the younger man caught up to him: "If I were superstitious, I'd be reeling, now." Of course, neither of the friends was. But that didn't mean everyone else wasn't, and the older man grinned:

"Debelzaq's going to lose his mind."

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><p>The cat was so glossy that its fur shone blue in the little sunlight they saw on their journey thus far, and that fur felt like velvet against Behmen's skin, especially his battle-weary hands. And it purred constantly, as long as it was near the blond man. And anyone could pet it, then, as well. But when Behmen had to necessarily leave it behind, no one else could calm its mewling cries, or get near it. Everyone found it beyond creepy, but said nothing, certainly not to the leader of this mission.<p>

That evening, around the campfire as Behmen regaled stories of his and Felson's enlistment to a curious Kay and the others, he fed the cat at his side bits of an egg that he was studiously peeling.

"The least you can do is name the damn thing," his friend piped up suddenly.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied easily, though unsure as his hand was head-butted: "No, you're not to eat the entire egg."

"When I said you needed to get some pussy, Behmen, this is _not _what I meant." And everyone started laughing, except for the priest. As usual. He even heard the witch laughing from her wagon cage some distance away, and looked towards the sound.

"She must be hungry, too," he whispered to the cat, which stopped begging immediately, nuzzling some bread no one was touching. So he covertly made a plate for her, and the night was chilly not around the campfire, so he also found an extra blanket to bring to the witch, and the cat did not follow as he moved stealthily towards the wagon.

The witch was grateful, and obviously feared Debelzaq, though to the knight he looked weak and timid, although the cat completely appalled him, so he obviously might not be what he seemed. Behmen still found it hard to believe he'd tortured the girl, but he didn't argue. She was worried what would happen to her at Severac, and he reassured her the best he could. Then he turned to go back to the campsite.

"Do you like the cat?" That stopped him cold, and he slowly turned to face the witch again:

"Very much so."

"Did you name it, then?"

"I doubt it'll stick around long enough." The witch was frowning:

"Have you no faith, Behmen?" It seemed an odd question, coming from her.

"Do you wish to name it?" he wondered, pleasantly surprised as it suddenly began winding around his legs, rubbing against his boots.

"May I pet it?" the witch asked, and he picked it up, cradling it in both arms, and moved close to the bars. The cat purred even louder as she stroked it, shifting in ecstasy, and the man smiled:

"Maybe I should leave it with you."

"It wants to be with you," she stated, her hand moving up to rest against the side of his face. Startled, he backed away, just out of her reach, as she stared at him intently.

"Name the cat, Anna."

"How do you know my name?" she demanded, now, but he was refusing to let her phase him, at least overtly:

"Do you want that as the name?" She shook her head. "Think about it, then. I'll get back—"

"Smyrna," she interrupted, and he swallowed hard, faltering. The cat leapt from his arms, back to wind around his legs.

"Why Smyrna?" he asked softly.

"Why _not_?" she challenged him. "It's an appropriate name for a she-cat."

"Very well, then." The cat was moving off, now, apparently satisfied with its new moniker, and it mewled impatiently for him to follow. "I'm being summoned," he said by way of explanation, nodding towards the feline.

"Sleep well, Behmen," the witch practically sneered now.

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><p>"I let the witch name the cat, Felson—" he whispered hours later, just knowing his friend was awake, Eckhart guarding the wagon in the middle of the night.<p>

"You let the witch name the cat _Felson_?" the man echoed back, always ready for a joke, and the other couldn't help but grin:

"Always making light—"

"Well, you're always making dark," he retorted. Debelzaq was obviously awake now, rising and heading for the wagon, probably to relieve the third knight.

"How's this for dark?" he prepared his friend ominously. "Smyrna—"

"_Smyrna_?"

"Smyrna," he frowned.

"Did you protest?"

"How could I? She can't actually know that—"

"Then you're in denial."

"Maybe, but I'm not superstitious; remember?" Felson nodded, leaning up slightly, pulling out the flask and taking a swig before handing it to his friend:

"Have two on me; you could probably use it."

"Thanks for buying tonight."

"Anytime, my friend," but Behmen still looked troubled. "Anything else?" he prodded gently.

"Her name's Anna; at least, I think it is."

"She told you?"

"Not exactly . . . she touched my face, and I knew it, somehow."

"And you didn't ask her where the cat came from, did you." It wasn't a question.

"Of course not." Felson was getting seriously annoyed, now.

"If you're going to wonder about these things, Behmen, then you need to either start asking questions, or just stay away from the witch altogether."

"I challenged her on Smyrna, but she wouldn't give in—"

"You're pussy-whipped, Behmen," was the other man's conclusion.

"Obviously," he chuckled, the end of the cat's tail flicking at his chin as it lay against his chest, and the other man joined in.

And then they heard Debelzaq screaming.

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><p>Eckhart was buried the next morning, having impaled himself on Kay's sword, somehow convinced that the former altar boy was his dead daughter. Debelzaq blamed it on the witch, telling Behmen that he and Eckhart had been discussing Mila in front of the witch moments before she escaped. Torches aflame, the group had galloped to a tiny village obviously ravaged by the plague; in the confusion of night, Kay had even pointed out the wrong girl, a pitiful specimen. They'd all been searching for the witch near a mass grave when Kay had frantically called for the two remaining knights. While Behmen had confirmed the awful truth, Felson had found the witch hiding mere yards away, and she'd attacked him violently. Stunned, frustrated, and wild of thought, Behmen yanked the witch off his dear friend and threw her against the natural stone wall. Kay was heartbroken and wracked with guilt on his left, and the witch was begging not to be left alone with the priest and apologizing for escaping on his right. At least she didn't fight the two remaining knights as they each took an arm and escorted her back to the wagon before helping Kay retrieve Eckhart.<p>

Behmen followed the wagon once the procession had started up again, needing to be alone, Felson riding alongside Hagamar, their guide, in the front. The cat was once again perched in front of his saddle, but he could barely see it, or anything else, for that matter, staring vacantly at the wagon wheels, head bowed deeply down. The witch was staring at him the whole time, but he didn't even notice her until she spoke, calling him a very brave Crusader and thanking him for not letting her come to any harm from the priest. But this time, he did challenge her:

"Debelzaq believes you're to blame for Eckhart's death," and she definitely took offense to that, before realizing that the knight was speaking from pain. She offered to take his hand, but he just looked at her with something akin to horror, remembering her palm against his cheek the evening before. He'd learned her name then, though no one would know that besides Felson, and that had only been the briefest of contacts. He dreaded to think what would happen with a closer, deeper connection. The witch started fondling the bars while eyeing him lustfully, and he halted his horse, profoundly disturbed. Behmen let the wagon get as far ahead of him as was reasonable before continuing on, back to studying the movement of its wheels. The witch wasn't actively staring at him, anymore, but it felt like her eyes were always on him, nonetheless. After a while, Felson fell way back to ride alongside him, acutely aware that his friend wasn't doing well, but soothed by the fact that he seemed to be taking last night's advice. Being the leader, Behmen couldn't avoid the witch altogether, but he certainly had no obligation to seek her out. He'd been more than kind, but seemed to be paying a heavy price for his good heart, and Felson felt terrible for him. They both looked up as the procession stopped.

"You just rest here; I'll check this out."

Behmen nodded wearily as his friend galloped past the wagon, but gathered himself when he heard him bitching at Hagamar, moving to the front, stopping his horse feet from the beginning of a ridiculously worn wooden suspension bridge. Apparently, it had been fine ten years ago, and his mouth hung open briefly before he dismounted.

"Come on, now; off you go," he whispered, trying to remove the cat, but it stood and swatted at him, hissing, before moving into the saddle and laying back down. Females. "Suit yourself, then." Everyone else did, it seemed. Nobody paid any attention to him and his horse until they were well on the bridge, like he had gone invisible. Felson finally stopped berating Hagamar as he noticed his friend, who seemed to have gone from merely disturbed to positively suicidal:

"_Behmen_?" Everyone was watching, now, in complete and utter disbelief, but no one more than Felson, who was somehow hoping to snap his fellow knight out of his definite insanity. "_Behmen_!" And then the older man realized what a stupid thing he was doing, calling his friend's name. The last thing Behmen needed right now was to be distracted, especially since he seemed to be doing quite well, leading the horse this way and that, but ever forward. Felson held his breath as a strong gust of wind swayed the bridge, the blond hugging the white animal's nose to him to calm both of them as their footing shifted even more. They were halfway across, now, and there was no way to turn back. The wind didn't exactly die down, but it became less aggressive, and the rest of the group watched as man and horse finally reached the other side.

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><p>"<em>Help<em>!" Kay shouted, but there wasn't anything Behmen could do, clinging precariously to the ropes at the side of the bridge as he laid against them. They'd been leading the wagon across, and it had been tethered to the three men still on the other side, trying to control its descent, but the priest had lost his grip, his hands bloody from the effort, the left one still damaged from the witch impaling it during her brief escape. Once Debelzaq had faltered, a chain reaction occurred, and the out of control wagon had nearly run Kay and Behmen down as it picked up speed, and they had both dropped and rolled to the side. But Kay had rolled too far, and fallen off. He'd caught the edge, but couldn't hold on, and began falling. And then he'd stopped. The wagon had stopped, and rolled back to the middle of the bridge, and Behmen noticed everything, even that Kay was still alive, as he finally managed to stand back up. And then he called to Hagamar, knowing they couldn't leave the wagon. If it stayed too long in one place, it would surely fall through what was left of the boards. There was no time to rest. Only time to think, and act.

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><p>"If you let me out, it'll be lighter!" Behmen paused in pushing the wagon, and if every muscle on his body hadn't been strained to the breaking point, he might've laughed. The witch didn't look or sound at all sinister at the moment; she just looked and sounded like a frightened, frantic girl who would die a horrible death if the bridge broke and plummeted many metres down. But it's not like she would be alone: Felson, Kay and Behmen would perish with her, being that they were behind the wagon, pushing and straining with everything they had, while the priest and Hagamar struggled to move the horses forward that were pulling the wagon from the safe side. Of course, if the wagon did suddenly plummet, there would be no 'safe side', as the downward momentum would most likely pull the others backward into the abyss, as well. But that was not going to happen, despite what the witch and Kay were shouting: "Let me out; I can help!"<p>

"It won't hold!"

"It _will_!" Behmen insisted, only answering the boy. He needed to ignore the witch. She was not going to escape again, and she was certainly not going to use their currently dire straits to convince him it was a good idea. Did she really think he was _that_ gullible?

"_Push_!" she screamed now, and the three men touched solid ground just as the bridge completely collapsed, falling so far that no one heard it land, except where it slammed against the sides of the chasm. Felson staggered, turned, and sat on a large boulder; Kay did almost the same thing on the other side. Behmen leaned against a tree, head down, but facing his friend.

"That was a little too close for comfort," the older man gasped, causing the blond to look directly at him:

"I've saved your ass a hundred times; have a little faith." And they both smiled. Debelzaq was shaking erratically; his face was nearly grey, and sweaty, and Behmen frowned, calling out to Kay:

"Bring me a fresh wrap for the priest's hand." He staggered past the wagon, his leg muscles still protesting, and the witch was no longer innocent looking.

"It'd be a shame if he bled to death," she scoffed at him as he reached the other man. Debelzaq almost looked as if he'd freeze to death, first, his teeth chattering madly, huddled way forward as he sat on a large rock. Behmen unwrapped the left hand, and eyed the previous damage critically before calling Felson over.

"The flask," he requested once the older man had reached him.

"_Really_?" It seemed a waste of good alcohol, but he handed it over, and his friend splashed the priest's hand. Needless to say, it hurt like hell, but Behmen knew it would help, and he started wrapping, Kay beside him, while Felson looked around at the eerie silence that seemed to be engulfing them:

"What is this place?"

"Hagamar?" Behmen called out to their guide, who was also looking around, somewhat fearfully. "Where are we?"

"Wormwood Forest." Yes, this was what Eckhart had been talking about when they'd first studied the map of the way to Severac. It was nothing to be trifled with; men had lost their way, never to be seen again. But, what was left of the group was here, now, and they certainly couldn't go back the way they'd come, so there was nothing left to do but move on. Behmen had finished tending to the priest, and took a hefty swig from the flask as he considered the forest ahead, the cat once again doing figure eights around his legs. He handed the flask back to Felson, then leaned over to pet the cat.

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><p>Dense fog surrounded them almost immediately after they started up again, badly obscuring their vision, but definitely not obscuring Behmen's ears: Felson and Hagamar were arguing again. Naturally, they hadn't seen him listening behind them, the three leading the wagon, and were startled when his horse strode up between them:<p>

"Enough!" It was like scolding two school children; both of their heads went down in shame, so he continued: "We'll camp here on the road until the fog passes."

No one was telling stories like last night; everyone was too exhausted. But Kay had confided something to Behmen, something he felt he could tell no one else, and long after the boy was asleep, he decided to visit the witch again.

"Behmen," Felson protested softly, but the younger man shook his head, lighting a torch in the campfire.

"I'll be right back." He gave the cat a quick stroke and walked away.

The witch must've been mad at him for helping the priest, because she didn't have the innocent look, and certainly not the lusty one, either. She was just scowling at him, but he ignored that, though there was no way he could ignore what Kay had told him. Nevertheless, he stood beyond arm's reach of the cell.

"Kay told me what happened on the bridge," he began, keeping his voice soft. "He says you saved his life . . . with one hand." A pause, "Hard to believe."

"We believe what we want to believe," she answered, appraising him coldly before continuing. "Do you believe I'm a witch, Behmen?" His torch went out at those words, and then it was back aflame instantly, and he nearly jumped, Felson doing the same from a distance, watching the two closely. The blond eyed the torch briefly, then turned his gaze back to the witch, her eyes flickering, her mouth twitching: "You're not afraid of me . . . Are you?" He hated what he did next, but this was really getting to be too much: He reached to the top of the wagon and pulled the cover down between them, effectively shutting her out physically, but he knew it wouldn't shut her out mentally. She was laughing, now, but it was more in his head than in the cold, dense, dark air. Felson already had the flask held out to him when he returned, but didn't say a word, and he sat, leaning against a tree, the cat in his lap, and he pulled his cloak closer to better cover them both before drifting to sleep.

Behmen's persistent nightmare about killing the girl in Smyrna was now being merged into a new nightmare about the witch. His sword still impaled her midsection, and blood still poured from her open mouth, but now her hands reached up into the blood, pulling at it, smearing it all up and down her voluptuous body as her clothes vanished. _"And who controls your insolent tongue, Behmen?"_ he heard as the girl turned fully into the witch, and he started as he appeared in the picture in his blue tunic, _not _in full battle gear, and the witch kissed him hungrily as blood covered them both.

"Ouch," he started awake from a cat's claw perilously close to his crotch. He'd obviously been moving around, and the feline would not be deterred from her resting spot. Felson was asleep against a tree close to the wagon, probably to prevent him from chancing any more encounters, though he certainly had no intention of interacting with her again any time soon, as the updated nightmare was causing her to laugh within his head again. But then he noticed something else, prodding the cat from his lap with great difficulty; she _really_ did not want him to leave her, but he had to.

"Trouble sleeping?" he asked quietly, standing behind Hagamar, the much smaller, squirrelly man peeking behind the covering of the wagon, crossbow in hand. Startled, he spun around, and it was amazing he didn't accidentally fire the arrow. "Myself, as well." He paused, "I don't know if it's the fog, or the altitude. It's unsettling," he concluded. "Even for a knight."

"Not to mention a spineless scoundrel like myself, eh, Behmen?" he half-snarled, though he did keep his voice low.

"That is _not_ what I meant." Trying to be the calm voice of reason, but Hagamar had worked himself into a lather:

"How many more have to die before we reach Severac?"

"None, if I can help it."

"And if you can't?" The man didn't wait for an answer, "Well forgive me if I'm reluctant to put my life in your hands, but I've got a better idea: We kill the bitch, and be done with it; tell the folks back in Marburg she tried to kill us; we didn't have a choice." He paused just a second, "I mean, who would be the wiser?" and then he turned for the wagon, but crashed into Felson's chest.

"I, for one," the man rumbled in a deep voice, arms folding menacingly. Behmen was relieved, and grateful to his friend, but the feeling only lasted until the three heard a howling sound from . . . _within _the wagon? He stepped up to it, pulling the covering, and the witch looked at him with a gleam in her eye.

"Did you hear that?" she taunted him, and then the _real _howling began.

"What is it?" Debelzaq wondered nervously. "What's going on?" The witch was smiling, and Behmen dropped the covering as he, Felson, and Hagamar moved away from the wagon, closer to the campfire. "Wolves," the priest finally realized, holding his breath.

"What do we do?" Kay asked fearfully, Behmen into his pack, tossing the unarmed priest an extra sword:

"Kill as many as you can."

The cat was at his legs again, seemingly oblivious to the approaching pack, and he picked her up quickly, lifting her as high as he could into the branches of one of the trees. "You'd be better off climbing, little one," he soothed as she mewled, not wanting to leave him. Felson had already killed the first wolf, and they came fast and furious after that. Both Kay and Hagamar went down briefly, Felson and Debelzaq rescuing them, respectively. Behmen's first managed to scratch him above and below his right eye, but he barely felt it as he shoved his sword in. Hagamar did surprisingly well with his crossbow, picking off two or three. Two attacked Behmen almost simultaneously, and he held his sword out to get one, than turned it at his side to impale the other. Kay, Felson, and Debelzaq each got one more, and then all was quiet again. For about five seconds.

"Oh no," Hagamar despaired as the howling started up again, and everyone looked around fearfully. It sounded like more. A _lot_ more.

"Get the horses," Behmen ordered. "I'll take the wagon." And then everyone was moving as if chased by hellfire, the covering flying off the wagon in their haste, leaving the witch visible, and exposed to the cold. Not that she cared. A particularly aggressive wolf leapt onto Hagamar, knocking him from his horse. He got to his feet unsteadily, brandishing a knife, the crossbow back on the front of the wagon, and he was surrounded by a pack in seconds. Behmen stopped the wagon and was up instantly, pulling his sword, but Felson's horse blocked his way.

"_Behmen_!" he implored, the man tripping over his horse. "We can't help him," he finished despairingly as they heard Hagamar's death screams. The blond held the reins as if to keep from falling, and then he turned back, his face shadowed and unreadable. The procession continued through the rest of the night, and nobody said a word to each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Nada.

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><p>They were still traveling when Behmen suddenly stopped the horses and dismounted the wagon before loading Hagamar's crossbow, it seeming to be the appropriate thing to do if he was going to kill the witch.<p>

"Behmen? What are you doing?" Debelzaq had been sitting in a daze like all the rest, but he was suddenly on alert.

"He's doing what comes naturally," the witch smiled. "Killing the innocent." She wasn't the least bit worried about possibly dying; she was just excited that her actions had driven this kind, calm man to the breaking point. Debelzaq, of all people, had positioned himself between her and the crossbow, but the blond was not easily deterred:

"Step aside, or this arrow will be yours."

"In God's name," was the only part he heard, and that just incensed him further.

"No man has spilled more blood in God's _name _than I," he spat, then started screaming: "A benevolent God would not ask such things of men!"

"If you kill the witch, you will not have God to blame," Debelzaq tried, now. "Only yourself." And then he was shoved aside, landing in the damp leaves covering the ground.

"Behmen." Felson was in front of him now, the other deeply disturbed as his crazed expression was studied. The older man did not want to come to blows. "Give me the crossbow, Behmen." His words were having an effect, but it wasn't enough to snap his friend out of it. "Behmen."

"No, Felson," he whispered hoarsely, trying to move around him. "It'll be over in a minute."

"Sooner than that, my friend," he said sadly, grabbing the crossbow with one hand, and sending the blond reeling with the other. "We'll camp here until tomorrow morning," Felson announced to Kay and Debelzaq. "Everyone's exhausted, and it'll give Behmen time to get his head back." They nodded solemnly, since no one was up to arguing, anymore.

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><p>Behmen didn't wake for hours, mainly because he was unconscious from hitting his head on a rock beneath the leaves when Felson had decked him, but also just from sheer exhaustion, mainly caused by his incessant nightmares. The man had bound his left wrist to the bottom of a young tree as a precaution, and a warning that worse would come if he were to dare try to do such a foolish thing again. Felson couldn't have been too worried, though, as he still had his sword, and his knives, and could cut his bond at any time. But, he didn't; he really had no desire to.<p>

"I didn't intend to give you a head wound, my friend," the older man said by way of apology as Behmen sat up against the tree's trunk, clutching a blanket against himself with his right hand. There was a small knot near his left temple, and he fingered it briefly, gingerly. It had hardly bled at all. The shrunken group encircled a campfire, and Felson had Behmen and the wagon at the far ends to keep him away from the witch. It didn't stop her staring at the blond, though, and the elder knight wasn't quite sure what else he could do to discourage her.

"Actually, this is the most peaceful, dreamless sleep I've had in ages," he managed to smile. "I could do without the headache, though."

"I may be able to help with that," Debelzaq piped up, pulling a leather bag from underneath the wagon seat as everyone but Kay looked at him in shock. Inside the bag were various potions and needles, Felson noted as he spied, but it wasn't like the priest was trying to hide anything, anyway. "This is a sample of everything the doctors were using to treat the Cardinal: Sedatives, painkillers, muscle relaxers, and the like. I'm no expert, but I can dabble," he admitted, before looking right at Behmen. "Would you like me to try?"

"Can you make a tea, or some such?" he asked hopefully. "I'd prefer to stay away from needles, or being bled," he shuddered, now. "After all, it's just a headache."

"Are you _sure_?" the witch demanded, now, everyone looking up at her. "Maybe you have a concussion, and you'll go to sleep, and never wake up again. Or, maybe you have a fractured skull, and brain fluids will start oozing out of your ears—" The witch's taunting stopped instantly as Felson shoved his fist through the bars, sending her reeling against the opposite side.

"I hope I haven't given _you _a headache, my dear," he fumed as she lay unconscious on the floor of the wagon. "Behmen, you know you're free to go; just cut the rope."

"I know, but I feel safer this way," he smiled weakly as food was prepared, the priest working on his remedy. "And the witch is definitely safer this way," he added. "I'll free myself before we leave in the morning."

"It's either that, or bring the tree with you." And everyone chuckled, even Debelzaq this time.

"And why not?" he pondered, blue eyes dancing as he looked at his fellow knight. "I've grown rather attached to it."

"But, you need to branch out."

"Keep talking to me like that, Felson, and I'll tear you limb from limb."

"Tree-mendous!" The two were laughing hysterically, now, and they hadn't even had any liquor, yet. Not that Behmen was allowed, anyway, Debelzaq having finished with his odd 'tea', telling him to take one sip at a time, and keep swirling it around, so that it wouldn't settle.

"It may take effect at any time, so just eat something in between each sip."

"Thank you."

"Thank me in the morning, Behmen," the priest warned. "It may still be a long night."

Behmen kept the cup in his bound left hand, and the plate of food on his lap, working on that with his right hand. Felson had thoughtfully cut the meat apart for him, and he ate more than he had in a very long time. His headache was gone after the second sip, but he took a third just to be on the safe side, but wanted no more after that. Of anything, except sleep. Felson took the cup and the plate as he slid down the tree, ending up laying on his left side, head resting on his outstretched arm, sound asleep once again.

Unfortunately, this time Behmen _did _dream, only it felt acutely real, as the girl from his original nightmare was back, still mortally wounded, a large angry hole through her torso where his sword had been. Blood poured from her mouth down her naked body, and she stood over him as he laid on the ground covered by the blanket. Startled awake, he tried to get up, cursing himself for leaving his left hand bound, and his right hand went down to his side for a knife. But the witch was behind him, snaring his right wrist so hard that he was sure it would break, and refusing to let it go as she lay against him, pushing her body against his back.

"Come," the witch beckoned softly to the girl. "They've drugged him. He can't stop you." And the girl laughed, lifting the blanket and laying down on her side, facing him, grabbing the sides of his face and kissing him hard, and he tasted her blood, and shuddered. She stopped at this, smiling as she pulled back, and then she said something, but it wasn't her voice, it was the soldier commander's:

"_Who controls your insolent tongue, Behmen?"_ And then she was kissing him again, harder this time, pulling his tongue into her mouth, clamping her teeth down on it, cutting it savagely. And he woke up screaming.

He was screaming because his tongue _was_ cut; it was swelling rapidly, and blood filled his mouth, turning his voice into a strangled gargle as he threatened to drown in it. Behmen coughed and choked as he tried to escape the ground, still feeling the women's bodies all over him, but his left wrist yanked him back, and his head bumped the tree, but that only made him more frantic. His right hand was free, and he reached for the knife like he had in the dream, but then Felson tackled him, and there was a horrified look on the elder man's face as he fought against him.

"_Behmen_! Behmen, calm down before you kill yourself!"

"I'll prepare more potions," the priest whispered through white lips.

"I'll help you," Kay offered, almost tearfully. The two knew Felson would easily overpower Behmen, but the blond obviously had a severe injury, and maybe they could help with that.

"What the hell happened?" the older, larger man demanded, finally pinning Behmen on his back, but then realized what a huge mistake that was, as the younger man was about to lose consciousness. Felson rolled him back onto his left side and wrapped around him as he began to choke out blood, it pouring down the side of his face, sliding over the wet leaves, disappearing under them into the ground. His friend was shaking violently under him, painful, bewildered sobs wracking every inch of his body. "Kay?" he called now, the two approaching the tree. "He's still fighting me, but I can hold him. Use the torch, and check his mouth before his tongue swells any more."

"I have something for swelling," Debelzaq offered.

"He can't eat or drink anything right now, you realize, so you'll have to find another way. He'll need some of everything you have, so mix the rest together, but be careful: You really knocked him on his ass the last time. Keep the anti-swelling stuff separate; it'll need to be put right on his tongue. Do that first: If it swells too much, he could suffocate." Kay was, by this point, somehow managing to hold the torch, keep Behmen's mouth open, and search around all at the same time. "Well?"

"It's not actually that bad; a scratch on the left side, like something skid across it." A pause, as he spied something. Behmen was mainly laying in a daze, now, trying to catch his breath, but he was dreading sleeping again. He knew Kay wouldn't hurt him, but still moaned in agony as the sheath of a cat's claw was pulled from his damaged tongue. Felson gripped him harder as Kay held it up.

"I don't believe it," Felson gasped. "We haven't seen that cat since the wolves." A long pause as everyone looked around. "Right?"

"I don't think she appreciated Behmen abandoning her," the witch announced suddenly, holding the cat.

"He put her in a tree to keep her safe from the wolves," Kay protested. "He risked his life to save her."

"If I catch it near Behmen again, it's finished," Felson threatened as Debelzaq came closer, holding a damp cloth and a small potion bottle.

"I have an idea. The bottle contains the anti-swelling medicine, and I can put that right in the tongue breeches, but it may make him drool excessively, or vomit." He held out the cloth, now, "So we should use this, first. Having him breathe it in will put him out, and then we can treat his tongue."

"What's the matter, Behmen?" Felson asked gently, once again having to subdue his fellow knight. "You're going to break that wrist if you keep fighting me." He considered a minute, than pulled out a knife, cutting the hand free, the rope still imbedded in the skin from all the blond's frenetic pulling, it pried carefully out. The limb wasn't free long, though, Felson holding both arms behind him, entangling legs in his own, and he couldn't move at all. "Cover his face, then, and don't let him bite you. As soon as he's out, take it away." He held him fast as Debelzaq grasped his chin to keep him from turning his head, and then the cloth was all he felt, putrid fumes invading his senses. "I'm sorry, Behmen, but we've no choice." The man went sickeningly tense, convulsed slightly, and then relaxed completely, wild blue eyes suddenly shut.

* * *

><p>"You have too many clothes on, Behmen," the witch breathed from behind him, yanking his cloak off after the girl had unbuckled it. His head was spinning madly, and he felt sick, even as the girl kissed him again. Most men would fantasize such a scenario, but the blond wasn't most men, and these certainly weren't most women: A witch who seemingly had it out for him, and a girl he had killed less than two months ago. They'd already cut his tongue, and he wondered what they would do to him now? But the witch was right: Behmen was drugged, and he couldn't fight; in all reality, he shouldn't be aroused, either, but he definitely was that. Hell, the way things had been going, they'd probably cut <em>that<em> off, next.

"He still has too many clothes on!" the girl laughed, now, unbuckling the silver tunic, the witch pulling that off, as well. "But this isn't bad," she smiled, just opening the blue tunic, and the sweater underneath. "You have the prettiest eyes." The girl's kisses moved down his bared chest.

"And the prettiest hair, as well," the witch added, her hands in it as she lipped at the side of his throat.

"Do you fight absolutely everybody?" the girl asked now, pulling his idle hands against her breasts. He looked down at her, knowing it was still a dream by the gaping hole in her midsection. Maybe he'd wake up, if he could put his hands in there, somehow shock his system back to reality, but the witch seemed to read his mind, snaring his wrists, yanking his hands behind his back.

"You are not stopping us again, Behmen," she hissed in his ear, forcing his hands down until there were four palms against his buttocks. "You owe her that much . . . It's the least you could do after killing a virgin." His legs were trembling now, as the witch went back to lipping his throat, the girl opening his black pants before mounting his hardness. "And you're not screaming yourself awake again," the witch insisted, clamping a hand over his mouth just before he came. He needed to gasp but couldn't, the charged air rushing in and out of his nostrils, his head whirling from the strain. He was beyond spent, and beyond weak, and the witch finally let him be. For now.

Behmen awoke sprawled on his stomach, mere feet from the campfire, the cold ground making him shiver as it rested against his bared chest. Startled, he looked over to the tree, and his cloak, blanket, and silver tunic were scattered from there to here.

"Should I put you with the priest, next?" the witch asked lightly, though her actual laughter was still ringing inside his head. He couldn't've answered if he wanted to; his tongue was still slightly swollen, and hurt like hell. It was just as well that he didn't want to. "Cat got your tongue?" she snickered, now, but he didn't even react. He got to his knees unsteadily, fixing his pants, the sweater, and the blue tunic. The rest could wait, because he was still exhausted; everything seemed so far away. Behmen let his body slide back down to the ground next to the campfire, basking in its warmth.

* * *

><p>"He's weak, and feverish." Not to mention speechless. Felson had him sitting up against the tree as he finished dressing him, buckling the cloak into place, putting the hood up against the cold. It was snowing lightly, and the day had just begun. "We have to keep going," the older man said apologetically, and Behmen nodded in understanding: Of course.<p>

"Will he be able to drink another potion?" Debelzaq wondered, now, and Behmen let Felson examine his mouth, though he was already nodding.

"Barely," was the conclusion. "Just don't make it too hot." And, as an added warning, "He'll be tethered to you on the seat of the wagon." A long pause, "That means you'll have to deal with any adverse reaction he may have to your potions, so be very careful what you administer him, Debelzaq."

"Of course," he nodded, already mixing.

"I can't wait until you can talk again, my friend," Felson smiled as he placed Behmen on the seat. "We've much to discuss." He tied a rope snugly around the blond's waist, and waited for the priest. "I've covered the cell behind you, so hopefully it'll discourage her, or the cat, from taunting you further." Not likely, and the witch was going to have a field day, knowing he was tied to the priest. Everything they did seemed to play right into her grubby little hands. The thought of what could happen made him shiver, and his teeth rattled slightly, Felson carefully cocooning him in the blanket. "He'll be stronger once he can eat again," he informed the priest as the man finally settled in, helping tie the rope around his own waist.

"That should help," Debelzaq replied, motioning to the large cup he'd just handed Behmen as he was looked at quizzically. "It's a sizable cup, but it's only half full, so it's less likely to spill, and it's just warm, but again, only one sip at a time. If you need to sleep, or feel weak, lean towards me, not away from me. You're not heavier, but you are taller, and you'll pull me with you if you fall off." Behmen nodded slowly, smiling slightly; of course he was heavier, as well: The priest was a scrawny man, and he, being a knight, definitely was not. He took a careful sip of the potion, and his tongue tingled pleasantly as the procession finally started up again.

* * *

><p>He was still tethered to the priest, but the rope around his waist was now around his neck, and the witch was pulling from yet another side, it tightening unbearably, his hands up to the noose and clawing under it, trying to pull it loose.<p>

"Do as I say, Behmen," she ordered. "Or I will finish you."

She hadn't said anything, but somehow he knew what she meant, and he nodded, the noose loosening just barely enough to allow him to breathe. Debelzaq was just sitting there, absolutely terrified as he stared at the knight, whose face had gone flush, hair dampened from the witch's persuasion. Behmen was sitting upright on the wagon seat next to the priest, facing him slightly, and the witch was kneeling behind him, unbuckling his cloak and silver tunic, yanking them back off of him.

"If I have to remove those again, I will cut them off of you for good," she snarled in frustration, hands up under his sweater, forcing it and the blue tunic open. "Now, show the priest your pretty eyes, and do this."

"It's only a dream, Debelzaq," he said softly, clutching a knife in his left hand, the right squeezing the man's left thigh under the brown cassock, dragging it away from the other. "Now hold still." And the knife cut through the cassock between the man's legs.

* * *

><p>The priest was screaming. The witch was laughing. And Behmen's world was upside down, literally, as he tumbled from the wagon, having cut the rope connecting him and Debelzaq. The wheels just missed him as he landed on the dusty dirt road, the wagon not able to stop instantly. Kay and Felson leapt from their horses, at his side instantly, immediately turning him onto his back, and they were relieved he was still alive, though bruised, battered, and cut, especially on his exposed skin, down to the waist of his pants.<p>

"I never want to go to sleep again," he whispered softly, slowly, painfully to his shocked comrades, and then everybody started laughing when they realized he could talk once more. He'd actually slept the whole day away, and Severac was in sight, but it was too late to do anything about it now; it was only an hour before dark. If they left early enough in the morning, they would reach the abbey before midday.

"We'll camp here," Felson announced, carefully lifting his friend to his feet as Debelzaq and Kay started to settle in. Behmen brushed his hands over his chest shakily, then gave up to refasten the sweater and blue tunic. The older man's arm was around him, clutching his right shoulder, the other lightly grasping his left bicep, and they were walking slowly away from everybody else: "Talk to me, my friend."

"The witch has taken over my dreams; I've been doing horrible things in them." His voice was barely audible. "I would dismiss them, but I always awake in some state directly from the dream." He nodded toward the wagon, where his cloak and silver tunic were, "In at least two, she's been pulling those garments off, and opening these." Behmen pulled at the hem of the blue tunic, deeply disturbed. He smiled weakly, "She threatened to cut them off of me next time, so I doubt I'll be wearing them tonight."

"This disturbs me greatly, Behmen," Felson admitted, touching his friend's neck lightly, and the blond went so pale he thought he would pass out.

"Rope burns," he gasped, his knees going weak, and they sat in the grass now, Felson leaning the other against him as fingers found the marks that were clawed into his throat, just above the collar bone. "I was tethered to Debelzaq, but by my neck, and I wasn't doing what she wanted . . ." Behmen trailed off, now. "Tell me I didn't attack the priest," he pleaded in a whisper.

"Not as far as I know," Felson said carefully. "He was screaming because you cut the rope, and he knew you were going to fall off."

"I must've fought her off, then," he concluded, somewhat satisfied. "She was making me cut off Debelzaq's cassock. I told him it was only a dream, but he obviously didn't believe me."

"You _know_ you're dreaming?" Felson gaped, now.

"It doesn't help as much as you think it would. She knows it, too, and she knows I'm trying to wake up." He shuddered, "She overpowers me, which I guess is easier if I'm drugged, or drunk asleep." Looking off into the distance, Behmen shook his head.

"What is it?" the other knight asked gently.

"How am I waking up with rope burns around my neck? Or my clothes strewn about?" A pause, "Nobody's seen this crazy man strangling himself?" He covered his face with his hands, distraught. "None of this makes any sense." His shoulders shook, "I fear I'm going mad."

"It's our last night before Severac, Behmen," Felson reminded him. "One way or another, it will be over by this time tomorrow." The blond spread his hand, looking at the older man through split fingers, "What?"

"You make it sound so ominous," he nearly smiled.

"Your nightmares sound worse to me—"

"Speaking of which," Behmen interrupted. "After this little chat of ours, I can be pretty sure you'll be my next victim."

"You'll _not_ be cutting _my_ clothes off, my friend. I have women to do that for me." That got them chuckling, which pleasantly surprised their companions. But then Behmen frowned:

"Don't give the witch any ideas."

* * *

><p>"You know you want him." The blue tunic and sweater were wide open again, and an exhausted Behmen couldn't fight off the witch, she grasping his wrists frightfully hard, holding his arms out from his sides, his whole body leaning back against hers as she forced him forward to face Felson. He wasn't even sure who she'd said that to; to her, they were probably interchangeable. The older knight was standing like a stone, with arms crossed, smirking, leaning ever so close to the blond, sniffing at him as his head rested back on the witch's shoulder.<p>

"Did _you_ drug him, this time?" he thundered. "I told the priest to go easy on him, for once." A pause, "We have a long day ahead of us, tomorrow."

"What better before a long, hard day, then a long, hard knight?"

"Behmen's no fun; he's helpless—"

"He's weak-willed—"

"He's kind, you inconsiderate bitch," Felson spat, now. "He went out of his way to be good to you, and your damned cat." He smiled, "Behmen's a powerful knight, and that's why we were assigned to bring you to Severac. There's no other reason. If he wasn't drugged, you wouldn't be able to handle him."

"That's a lie!"

"What do you know about the truth, anyway," he hissed now, his hands layered over the witch's. "I'm not as pretty as he is, but I'm not drugged, either." He pried her fingers from Behmen's wrists, one by one, and then caught the other knight as he started to drop, holding him in one arm. "For the record, if he and I wanted each other that badly, we would've done it by now." Felson laid his dazed friend gently on the ground, then turned to the witch, "Did I hear you say something about wanting a long, hard knight?"

For once, Behmen woke up laughing: Just leave it to Felson to find some way to get laid by the witch, and on his own terms. When the procession started the final leg of their journey that morning, Behmen and Felson were more content than they had been since before deserting the Crusades, and the younger knight was the strongest he'd been in days. They were both ready for anything. Or so they thought.


End file.
